Genesis
by thykayti
Summary: An in-depth look at the experiences that heavily influenced the life and personality of Commander Melantha Shepard, a young woman born in the colonies.
1. The Attack, Pt 1

BioWare owns the Mass Effect universe. I just wrote stuff that takes place in said universe. =D

Many thanks to my lovely beta Serenita. Where would I be without you?

* * *

"Grandpa!" The young woman started banging on the door again. She wondered what her grandfather was doing. He was the sort of man who became absorbed in tasks, to the point where he wouldn't notice anything going on in the world around him... like his granddaughter knocking on the door. It frustrated her all too often. "Come on, Gramps, let me in!"

The door slid open a moment later. "Shirking duties again?" The older man grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth as they locked on to his only grandchild's green ones.

His granddaughter made a face at him. "I brought you cookies," she said, holding up a small box.

He ushered her inside and hit the pad next to the door, causing it to close. "Cookies, you say? Well, I suppose you can get away with not working in the fields if you brought me cookies, Corporal."

The young woman smiled at her grandfather's pet name for her. Joseph Shepard had been a marine in the Systems Alliance a lifetime ago. The time he spent as an enlisted man left its mark on him, and it showed through in his affection for his only grandchild. "Here." She handed him the box and took a seat as he carried the box into what passed for a kitchen in the small pre-fabricated unit. "It's a recipe I haven't tried before. I think you'll like it, Gramps."

"Letting me be the guinea pig for your experiments again, I see," he said.

"Well of course! You know as well as I do that my experiments never go wrong," she replied.

He opened up the box and peered inside. "What is this? Are these oatmeal raisin?" he asked. She nodded vigorously. "I haven't had these in years. Where did you get the supplies to make these?"

"Dad got them. No idea how, but I didn't question it." She shrugged. Her father was like that. He would always come home with some new, fresh ingredients to cook with that weren't a product of the colony. Those days were her favorites, because it meant she and her father would spend copious amounts of time cooking together in the kitchen. It also meant that she got to avoid working in the fields with her mother. She had a very close relationship with both of her parents, but cooking and baking with her dad had always been special and her grandfather knew that.

The elderly man came and had a seat beside his sixteen-year-old granddaughter, cookie in hand. "Your father always was good at getting his hands on things he shouldn't, the sneaky bastard. You get that from him, you know."

"What? Being sneaky?" Her grandfather nodded as he took a bite out of his cookie. "I'm not sneaky. I just know how to do things well enough that no one ever notices."

"That's what I said, Corporal. Being sneaky." He smiled at her again, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle in a familiar and comforting way. "These taste just like the ones your great-grandmother used to make. I'll never know how you do it."

"Easy. I dug up her recipe. Dad had it stored in his omni-tool, but I guess he forgot about it. I figured I would give it a shot."

Joseph raised a silver eyebrow at his granddaughter. "If your father forgot about it, then how did you get your hands on it?"

She fidgeted in her seat, clearly reluctant to reply. "I hacked it," she said finally, looking away. "He always hides his best recipes from me and I don't know why. So I waited 'til he was asleep and I hacked into his recipe collection."

"And what did your father say about that?" Her grandfather's tone seemed to carry a warning.

"He hasn't figured it out yet," she admitted. "He probably won't be happy, but there you have it."

Her grandfather glared at her for a moment longer before he finally burst into laughter. "See, sweetheart, this is exactly what I mean! Sneaking around, hacking into your old man's tool for giggles… your talents aren't fit for the life of a farmer." He moved back to the seat he'd been occupying when his granddaughter showed up. An array of weapons was lined up on the table in front of the chair. He grabbed his assault rifle and picked up where he had left off; he had been in the process of cleaning his guns when his granddaughter showed up. That explained why he hadn't answered the door as quickly as he should have.

She leaned over and picked up a sniper rifle, admiring the weapon. "Gramps, I don't understand why you insist on cleaning your guns every other day. This is Mindoir. Nothing ever happens here. At least, nothing you need to be prepared to shoot someone for."

"If there's one thing I learned in the military, it's that a good soldier is always prepared for anything. Disaster always strikes when you least expect it. You'd do well to remember that." A shadow of emotion passed over his wrinkled face. She knew he was remembering the time he spent in the Alliance. She had seen that look on his face before and she always wondered what sorts of horrors he had seen, but he had never told her; maybe he wanted to spare her from knowing the worst of people. She didn't know and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

As soon as it had appeared, though, the shadow was gone and his usual good-natured expression was back. He gave her a stern look to reinforce his statement, and she nodded in response. "Good. What do you say we take the pistol out back and practice shooting? You're a damned good shot with that thing."

She shook her head and carefully set the rifle back down. "I really shouldn't. I need to get back home. Mom needs me to help her with something. She wasn't too specific about what, though."

"Well, you'd best not keep her waiting then."

She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. She and her grandfather exchanged inquisitive looks. "I'll get it, Gramps. Just keep doing what you're doing."

She made her way over to the door and keyed in the number to open it. It slid open and she was greeted by the smiling face of her boyfriend. "Evan!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Your parents said you were down on this side of the colony. Thought I'd come see you." He motioned over his shoulder. "Got a minute to talk?"

"Sure," she said. "Gramps, I'll be outside for a few minutes."

He just waved her out. She had to suppress a grin. Her grandfather always seemed uncomfortable around her boyfriend, even more so than her father. All the better, she supposed, as Evan always seemed ever so slightly afraid of her grandfather. Best to keep them separated.

As the door closed behind her, Evan swept her into his arms and kissed her. When he finally released her, she laughed and said, "You're in an awfully good mood. What gives?"

"I've got something to tell you and I think you'll be thrilled," he said, grinning wildly. His dreadlocked hair bounced about as he spoke, reflecting his jovial attitude. As long as she'd known him, she didn't think she'd ever seen him so excited. She had known him almost her whole life and she was well-aware of the fact that Evan was normally quiet and reserved. Even when he was happy or excited about something, he would only show it with a smile or a few words. Right now, he was practically bouncing.

"Well? What is it?"

"I'm joining the Alliance."

She just stared at him. "What?"

"I'm joining the Alliance. I just got back from talking to a recruiter."

"And… you thought this was a good idea why?"

He narrowed his eyes and his excitement quickly abated. "I thought it would be obvious. This way, we have some sort of stability. We aren't going to be bound to this colony. I know you were thinking about joining and I figured I should too. We can see the galaxy together, love."

She held up a hand to stop him. "Whoa, whoa. Evan, you only just turned eighteen. I'll be seventeen in less than six months. We've been dating for, what, a year? I love you, more than anything, but this is too much right now. Besides, do you really think things are going to work that way?"

"What do you mean?"

"If we both join the Alliance. We're not going to see each other. We could spend most of our careers on opposite sides of the galaxy. I'm not saying we couldn't make it work, but holy hell would it be difficult." The look on his face was beginning to turn from one of excitement to one of dejection. She reached out and put her arms around his neck. "Hey. It's okay. I'm sorry, you just shocked me is all. We'll work it out. It won't be much more difficult than if only I had joined, I promise." She gave him a light kiss on the cheek. He seemed to perk up a bit at that.

He certainly had the ability to succeed in the Alliance. She didn't think he had ever touched a gun in his life, but he was a technological genius. They were always recruiting individuals who knew their way around technology and Evan was a natural. He had taught her everything she knew about tech; without his instruction, she never would have been able to obtain her great-grandmother's cookie recipe. Beyond his technological skills, he was incredibly athletic as well. He was tall, standing a few inches over her almost-six-foot height, and built of almost all muscle. The athleticism came with living on an agricultural colony and he was hardly unusual in that regard. Even with all of the technological advancements in farming, much of it still required arduous physical labor and the physique of many of the colonists reflected that.

She was still a bit unnerved by his words, though. She did love him, but the things he was talking about, well, were sounding like marriage. That wasn't an idea she even wanted to entertain right now. Like she had told him, they were both young. There was so much that could happen in the next year and a half, when she could join the Alliance. She didn't want him making decisions he would regret if their relationship fell apart. They had long, long lives in front of them. There was no point in getting tied down so early. There might be other women in his future; there might be other men in hers. She didn't want to think about that just yet. She was content to live here and now. Things were easier that way.

Suddenly, the expression on his face changed to one of confusion, jerking her out of her thoughts. She reached out to place a hand on his cheek, the fairness of her skin contrasting the ebony of his. "What is it?"

He inclined his head, gesturing toward something behind her. "What the hell are those?"

She let go of him and turned to see what he was talking about. "Look like ships. What are they doing here?" There were two by her count. There might have been more, but if there were they were obscured by the darkening sky. She didn't recognize them.

"I didn't think we were supposed to see any Alliance ships for a few weeks," Evan murmured.

She shook her head. "That's not the Alliance."

"What? Who is it then?" her boyfriend was asking, but she had already turned to run inside to inform her grandfather. Evan followed, close on her heels.

"Gramps! There are ships touching down on the colony but I don't recognize them. What's going on?" She was beginning to get scared and the fear caused her voice to crack. Something wasn't right with these ships and she knew it.

"Ships? Let me see?" The elderly man poked his head out the door and promptly swore. "This is bad. Here." He tossed his granddaughter his military-issue Hahne-Kedar pistol. "Listen to me, Melantha. Do you remember all of those games we played when you were younger?"

She nodded. Of course she did. As a little girl, she had loved playing "humans versus aliens" with her granddad. He was always the alien, and she would have to find ways to get around him or get him out of her way in order to accomplish a task. Her parents had never approved, as it always involved her playing with toy guns, but her grandfather had ignored the admonishments he had received from his son and daughter-in-law. She had loved every second of it. It was the only time she was allowed to play with her guns. "But what do those games have to do with this?"

"Everything. Those games we played taught you basic tactics and today you're going to have to use them. Those ships are batarian slave ships. They're here to take slaves and kill anyone who resists."

"What do batarians want with us though? We're just farmers," Evan said.

"The four-eyed bastards are bitter because the Council wouldn't make the Verge exclusive to the batarians. They've been taking out their aggression on human colonies as a result and, apparently, we've become a target. There's no time to dwell on that now, though. You know how to use a gun, boy?" Evan shook his head to indicate that no, he did not. The old man handed him an assault rifle anyways. "No better time to learn, then. Just point it at somethin' you want dead and pull the trigger. Stay together. Melantha knows what to do."

_No, I really don't, Grandpa,_ she wanted to say. But she kept her mouth shut and simply nodded. She needed to stay confident… or at least, she needed Evan to think she was. He was a good man, but she knew he could crumble easily in stressful situations like this. As long as she stayed calm, she knew he would follow suit. "What do you need us to do?"

"Get to the main settlement. Stay out of sight as best you can. Shoot anyone who gets in your way. The best thing you can do is stay hidden. Can you do that?"

"I think so. What about you?" she asked.

"I'm going to stay here and take out as many of them as I can, try to stop them from following you."

"You can't hope to take them all out."

"No, but I can do some damage. You need to go. Be safe, Corporal. I love you." He hugged his granddaughter and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you too, Gramps." She kissed his cheek as he released her from the hug. Without another word, she took Evan by the hand and pulled him out of the pre-fab. She never looked back.


	2. The Attack, Pt 2

Melantha Shepard never thought she would be glad to see the day when the harvest wasn't going as well as the colony had anticipated. There were shipping crates strewn everywhere, piled as high as the colonists had dared. It made for great cover.

Luckily, they hadn't been spotted yet. They had moved through the fields when there were no crates to obscure their presence. There had been few of the invaders this far in, for which she was thankful. They hadn't had to shoot anyone. Now, though, they were in a tight spot. There was a pair of batarians standing on the other side of the crates they were hiding behind. There was no way they could move forward unless the guards left… or unless they took them out. She had a feeling it was going to have to be the latter.

She tapped Evan on the shoulder and held a finger to her lips to indicate that he needed to be quiet. He nodded, acknowledging her warning. She leaned from behind the crates and quickly took aim with her pistol, pulling the trigger. The first batarian went down in a heap. She pulled back behind the crates as the other started shooting in her direction.

Evan gave her a look that clearly indicated that he thought she was crazy. She waved him off as she crawled along behind the crates to get a better position on the second. He was still focused on her previous position, she noticed as she poked her head above the crates. He had no idea that she had moved, so she used the element of surprise to her advantage. She took aim again and this time, the shot hit the guard in the back of the head. He went down just as easily as his friend.

"Where in the hell did you learn how to do shit like that?" Evan asked in a furious whisper. His voice held a hint of fear, though she wasn't sure if it was fear of the enemy or fear of her. He hadn't known about her escapades with her grandfather.

"When your grandfather was a marine, it comes natural. Come on, we need to keep moving. The settlement isn't far." She helped him up and they continued running, ducking behind crates to stay hidden.

They hadn't gotten more than thirty or forty yards when a voice stopped them. "Well, well. Aren't you a pretty one." A batarian stepped out from behind some crates and walked toward her, grinning.

"I really wish I could say the same for you," she replied as she lifted her pistol and pulled the trigger. The shot struck him dead center between all four eyes. "Keep moving!"

Evan didn't move. "What's all that, up in the sky?"

She followed his gaze upward. Smoke filled the sky, making the dusk even darker. "They're burning the fields and the settlement. They've gotta be. Nothing else would produce that much smoke." Suddenly, the need to get home seemed much more urgent. She had to make sure her parents were okay.

"We're not going there, are we?" he asked.

"Yeah, we are. Come on. If you keep stopping you're going to get us killed."

"If we go that way we're going to get killed. We're better off just staying put."

"No. We aren't." She glared at him. "It's a lot harder to shoot a moving target than one sitting still. Now come on!"

Moving forward was becoming more and more difficult. They had to strategize to take out a few more lone individuals they encountered. Once, she missed a shot and her target managed to fire off a few rounds before she was able to take him out. Those rounds found their way into her boyfriend. He fell to the ground, clutching his side. Blood was leaking out between his fingers.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She knelt beside him and moved his hand out of the way. Her heart sank. The wound was bad. He had taken three separate bullets in the right side and middle of his abdomen. Her grandfather had once told her that if a man got shot in the abdomen, he needed to get medical care as soon as possible. Medigel would slow the damage, but it would still kill him after a time.

She didn't want to lose Evan. She couldn't lose him. He was her best friend, the only man she had ever loved. The idea of losing him scared her more than the idea of facing the batarians or the idea that she might not survive this attack. He meant the world to her. But she couldn't let her fear show. She couldn't let him know how bad his condition was, no matter how much the knowledge hurt her.

"I don't know," he said. "I took a couple of bullets and it hurts like hell. You don't have any medigel, do you?"

"No." She glanced around, taking stock of their surroundings. There were a few dead colonists lying about and there was a house nearby. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

She darted off toward the house. On a colony like Mindoir, every housing unit would have a stock of supplies like medigel in case of an emergency. It was likely that this one also contained some sort of medkit.

The door was open. Pulling out her pistol, she slipped inside. Looking around, she saw two bodies in the corner. No one else was in the house, though there were toys scattered about. Neither of the bodies in the corner were small enough to be a child, a fact for which she was grateful, but she briefly wondered at the child's fate as she began tearing the house apart in search of a medkit.

She finally found one, hidden away in a bathroom. Opening it up, she was dismayed. There were no medigel injections left in the kit and that was exactly what she had been hoping to find. Evan's wounds were bad enough that a topical application probably wouldn't sustain him long. It would do for a time though, and it looked to be the only option; fortunately, there was some of the topical left in the kit. She grabbed it and exited the house, running back to Evan's side.

"Here," she said. She lifted his shirt and smeared the medigel onto the wounds. "It's not perfect, but it will have to do until we can get somewhere safe. Come on." She helped him to his feet and they continued on, Evan limping at her side.

After a time, they came upon a large group. This time, it wasn't just the batarians. They had a few colonists that they were herding back to one of their ships. There were more colonists nearby… only these were dead. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had never seen so many dead in one place at one time. She could feel panic rising up in her chest, but she continued to breathe deeply to calm herself. Panicking would only get them killed.

The breathing wasn't helping much. The air was filled with the stench of burning buildings and burning flesh. It was not pleasant. She opened her eyes and looked at Evan. He didn't seem to be doing much better. "We need to wait for a few minutes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "They're moving. We need to let them get clear."

He acknowledged her statement with a brisk nod. He looked like he was fighting the urge to be sick. She didn't blame him. She was barely keeping herself together. At this point, she doubted they were going to make it out of this situation, alive or not. But she wasn't going to give up. No, she was going to take as many of those bastards as she could down with her.

Time passed. A number of people had cleared out, but there were still a few left-more than the two of them could handle on their own. Evan looked at her. "We need a distraction to get them away."

"What do you propose? One of us running out there and letting them chase us?"

"Actually, yes."

She gaped at him. "You're insane. That's not an option. Whoever does that is going to die."

"I know." He sighed. "I don't have a chance. I can't fight and I'm just weighing you down, especially with these wounds. I saw the look in your eyes. You know I won't make it. But you have a chance. You can get out of here." He leaned over and kissed her. "You are the strongest, most incredible woman I have ever known, and I love you. Don't ever forget that."

Before she could even think about responding, he was gone. She swore and peered around the crate she was crouched behind. The batarians were buying the distraction. Evan was shouting at them as he ran, taunting them. They followed.

She couldn't believe the damned idea worked, but she couldn't pause to think about that. She ran. Putting all of her strength into it, she ran straight for her childhood home that appeared in the distance. A single shot rang out in the chaos and she knew it was meant for the only man she'd ever loved. But she couldn't mourn. Not now.

Moving quickly, she could feel her long hair coming free from the loose bun it had been tied in. She couldn't stop to pull it back, dangerous as having the loose hair might be. And less than a moment later, she regretted her decision not to stop.

Her hair caught on something and she yelped out in pain. She heard a laugh. "Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" a deep voice asked. She twisted around and landed a blow on her captor's face. Startled, he let her go. She fell forward but quickly regained her balance, turning to him with her pistol out. She pulled the trigger, but he was too fast. Her shots landed, but in non-fatal locations. He knocked her legs out from under her and pulled out a gun of his own. She rolled out of the way just in time for his bullets to eat the dirt where her head had been only a moment before. She just kept shooting at him until he was riddled with enough holes that he couldn't continue standing.

She crawled back to her feet and continued running. The fallen batarian still had enough life left in him to get a few shots off and one hit her in the leg. She fell to her knees from the force of the hit, but she quickly climbed back up and kept moving, albeit with a limp. She ducked behind a nearby vehicle, where the bodies of some dead marines lay.

Offering up a plea to the gods and an apology to the soldiers who'd given their lives to try to save the colonists, she began to search the bodies. After a few moments, she found what she was looking for: a knife. She couldn't risk her hair getting in the way again. Gathering up her long auburn hair in one fist, she began sawing away at it with the knife. It was dull, but it got the job done. After a few moments, most of her hair lay scattered about the ground around her. What was left ended just above her shoulders. It was messy, but it would do. She began to toss the knife aside, but thought better of it. It could come in handy if she had to get up close to someone. Instead, she shoved it in one of her pockets and continued sprinting toward her home.

She didn't know how she managed to get close to the house without being seen. She didn't know if it was luck, providence, or skill, but she wasn't questioning it. There was movement within the house, though, so she ducked behind another nearby stack of crates. Never again would she curse a bad harvest. Never. This one had thus far saved her life. She never would have believed she would be happy to have all of these crates scattered across the colony. Peering through a space between crates, she hunkered down to keep out of sight while observing the situation.

A batarian dragged her mother out of the house by her hair-the same auburn hair she had just cut from her own head. Her mother was screaming and swearing at the slaver. The older woman was putting up a fight. The slaver holding her shouted something at one of his fellows in a language she didn't understand. His friend nodded and, lifting his shotgun, aimed at her mother's head. She managed to close her eyes just before the shot went off. When she finally worked up the courage to open them again, all she could see was her mother's body lying only a few feet away. The batarians appeared to be gone but even so, she waited a good while before daring to peek around the crates to get a better view.

When she finally did, she realized that the coast was clear. Hurrying to her mother's side, she fell to knees beside the body. She had to cover her mouth with both hands and look away quickly. There was nothing left of her mother's head but a bloody pulp.

She barely managed to get away from the body before she threw up. The last thing she wanted to do was get sick on her own mother's corpse. It seemed an insult to the woman she had loved so well, even if she was gone. Wiping her mouth, she stood and slowly walked toward the house. The door was open and she found that she had difficulty crossing the threshold. She needed to find her father, but after seeing her mother, she was apprehensive about finding him. Finally she worked up the courage to step inside.

Her father was lying in the kitchen. The stove was still on, indicating that he'd been cooking when the attack hit. He had fared somewhat better than her mother, in that he had a single shot to the head that had clearly taken his life. She knelt beside his body as well, though this time she didn't feel ill. She only felt numb. This couldn't be real. Everyone she had ever known or loved, gone. Her parents, her grandfather, her boyfriend… all dead. It couldn't be real. It couldn't.

She realized she still held her grandfather's Kessler in her hand. She looked at it as if seeing it for the first time. One shot was all it would take, and she wouldn't feel numb anymore. She'd be with them again; all of them.

No. It wasn't an option. Evan and her grandfather hadn't sacrificed themselves just for her to kill herself. Offing herself would be an insult to everyone's memory. No. She would live. She would deal with the inevitable pain and guilt and she would do better by them. She was going to use the opportunity that her loved ones' deaths afforded her.

That was when she heard the cracking noise above her. She looked up and realized that the house was in bad shape. It had suffered a lot of structural damage from the smoke and flames that permeated the colony.

Her last thought before everything went black was that even her house was trying to kill her.

oOoOoOo

"Lieutenant? I found one! Over here!"

A woman's voice pierced the darkness. As the young woman came to, she was aware of something heavy pinning her down. She opened her eyes and saw the burning sky, filled with smoke and illuminated by the flames consuming the colony of Mindoir. The sky. That was strange. Her house had a roof. She shouldn't be able to see the sky.

The weight on her body was suddenly lifted. As she looked around, she saw Alliance soldiers swarming the ruins of the colony, looking for any potential survivors. _Good of them to show up_, she thought dryly.

There were voices. Lots of voices. The only one that stood out was the female one she had noticed earlier. A face came into her line of vision, a face that matched the voice. "You're badly hurt, sweetie. Your house collapsed in on you. Try not to move."

A man nearby spoke. She couldn't make out his words. The woman kneeling beside her shot a glare at someone, probably the man speaking, and said, "With all due respect, sir, I'm not leaving her side. She's just a girl and she's probably seen some really terrible things in the past day or so. I'm not leaving." She turned back to the girl. "I want you to try to speak, okay? What's your name, sweetie?"

She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Swallowing, she opened her mouth again to speak. Only one word came out: "Shepard."


End file.
